


A Man For Every Season

by turps



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:00:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Den's <a href="http://pixeestyx.livejournal.com/15313.html?mode=reply.html">Chris Challenge</a>. Chris through the seasons</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man For Every Season

**It´s spring when Chris falls in love with Joey.**

The last frosty fingers of winter have released their hold, crisp days replaced with warmth and sun. Fat buds unfold on trees, tiny green tips push through the ground, winter nothing but a memory as things start anew.

Tired after a long shift, Chris rubs at his neck, fingers brushing against the dampness of his hair. His feet ache after standing all day, but he pushes that feeling aside, hurrying across the parking lot toward his car.

It´s no surprise to find Joey waiting, ankles crossed, leaning against the car. He´s reading a magazine, but looks up with a smile when Chris gets near.

So it seems Steve has a _thing_ and can´t pick me up.’ Joey closes his magazine and rolls it up, crouching so he can put it in his bag. Personally I think the thing is a date with his own hand, but what do I know?’

Thanks for that mental image.’ Chris grimaces, looking at Joey over the roof of the car.

I´m here to share the trauma.’

Joey´s laughing and for a moment Chris considers driving off and leaving him behind. He doesn't. Instead he unlocks the car, trying to scour images of Steve from his mind.

You going home?’ Bag thrown on the back seat, cassette pushed into the player, and Chris is ready to go.

I told mom I´d be home late.’ Joey slings his bag next to Chris´ and settles down in his seat. He´s got one knee up against the dashboard, his elbow hanging out the open window as he taps his fingers in time with the song.

Chris checks his gas gauge. The needle says there´s enough gas to get him to work for the next few days and a little left over. He cranks down his own window, turns up the music, and pulls out of the lot, happy to just drive.

~*~*~*~

And then Wayne totally slipped on his ass, he didn´t fall off the stage though, that would have livened up the show.’ Joey´s hands sketch invisible illustrations as he tells his tale, his laughter loud as it´s caught on the wind and whipped away.

Did he finish the song?’

Joey laughs in reply. Yeah, he finished it, but his feet thingies had twisted. Ever seen a wolf try to dance with backwards paws? It isn´t easy.’ He´s laughing in earnest now, slumped in his seat, his head next to the open window. Suddenly he sits upright, pointing out the window at the open gates of a park. Stop here.’

Confused, Chris looks across at Joey. Normally they´d drive to the ocean, not stop here, still, he slows down, pulling into an empty space.

It´s a nice evening and I figured we could walk. It´s not so crowded, but. If you don´t want too. You´re probably tired.’

I´m fine, and if you want to walk in the park.’ Chris shrugs, they´ve never been here before, but beach or park, they can talk anywhere.

Cool, it´s just.’ Joey sighs, twisting in his seat so he can reach his bag. Come on.’

Sunlight filters through the trees, waves of light flickering around them as they walk down the path. They are passed by joggers with pastel tracksuits, walkmans looped around their necks. A Dalmatian nuzzles at Chris´ side, its owner smiling a greeting as she walks by. Joey is unusually silent, walking with his head bowed and frowning down at his shoes. Chris walks by Joey´s side, openly watching him and wondering about this awkward silence. A silence that Chris feels compelled to fill with chatter, jokes and meaningless stories about his day.

They branch off the main path, following a dirt track through the trees. When they reach a deserted area, Chris has had enough. Stopping, he grabs Joey´s arm. What´s up?’

Nothing.’ Joey´s looking at the trees, at the dirt under his feet. Chris wants to shake out the truth, but gathers his patience instead. He waits, distracting himself by counting the crocuses next to the path. There´s twenty-two, plus one snapped and lying on its side.

He starts when Joey abruptly turns and bends down for a kiss. It´s a terrible kiss. Joey´s teeth clatter against Chris´ own, their noses bump together, and Joey keeps his hands awkwardly hovering in the air, close but not quite touching skin.

Surprised, Chris keeps his eyes open and it´s impossible to miss that Joey feels rejected as he pulls away, taking three stumbling steps back.

Mom always said I had impulse control problems.’ Joey reaches out as if to touch, then lets his hand drop. I´m sorry.’

Chris rubs at his nose and wipes the spit from his lips. You planned on seducing me with a kiss?’

Joey flushes even redder. Sort of. I had this plan. I thought.’ Hunched in and miserable, he reaches into his bag, pulling out a film wrapped sandwich and a half empty bottle of soda. I thought a picnic, but I was hungry, and... Lets just go back, forget this ever happened.’

I don´t think so.’ Chris steps closer. The situation is unexpected, but it´s Joey, a good friend and hot too. Like Chris would say no. You owe me a sandwich, and a kiss.’

It takes a long moment for the implications to register, and then Joey's expression changes. He smiles and and lets his bag and the soda drop to the floor. I can do that.’ He reaches out, touch sure, one hand wrapped around Chris´ arm, the other holding tight to the sandwich as Joey licks inside Chris´ mouth, across his lips. His hands are moving, slipping over Chris´ back, pressed close together and Chris listens to the rustle of trees, feels the breeze move his t-shirt when Joey moves his hand.

We should go. My place.’ Chris jerks away, looks around before snatching one last kiss. It´s too public here.’

Joey´s looking at Chris, eyes alight and smiling as he pushes the sandwich into Chris´ hand before taking off along the path with a last look over his shoulder.

Chris stares down at the sandwich, limp and squashed at one end. As a seduction gift it´s pretty lame, but that makes Chris love it even more. He hurries after Joey, needing to get him alone.

~*~*~*~

  
 **It´s summer when Chris falls in love with Lance.**

Their room has a balcony, rusted dark metal clinging precariously to the white stone wall. Chris is sitting close to the door, trying to pretend it´s impossible to see the ground so far below. Lance is near the rails, lying basking in the sun, face down on an orange towel that clashes horribly with his hair. Chris doesn´t notice, his attention focussed on the long expanse of back, on black shorts that do little to hide the swell of ass, on sturdy legs and bare feet.

Can you do my back,’ Lance asks.

Sure,’ Chris says, reaching for the bottle of lotion. He squeezes a generous amount on to his palm, kneeling so he can drop the lotion on to Lance´s skin, rubbing it in with long even strokes from neck to hip, working his fingers up, tracing the bumps of Lance´s spine.

Lord, Chris. You have to stop that,’ Lance says, but his movements contradict his words as he pushes up into Chris´ hands.

Chris. Lance. We´re going out to eat.’ The door is suddenly pulled open and Justin steps through the gap, then steps right back. You can´t do that out here!’

I´m rubbing lotion into his back.’ Unimpressed, Chris shades his eyes and looks up at Justin, who glares right back.

It´s the way you were rubbing.’ Justin comes back outside and crowds over them, his hair a blazing halo of sun. Someone could have seen.’

We weren´t doing anything wrong, and anyway, there´s no one around, I checked.’ Lance pushes himself onto his knees, adjusting himself without shame. Go tell Lynn we´ll be there in five.’

Justin looks unconvinced, but takes the hint, letting the door slam behind him as he leaves the room.

Talk about uptight.’ Chris rubs his hands over his shorts, then sits watching, knees bent, back against the sun warm wall, as Lance carefully shakes and folds the towel. He´s not mad though, knowing well enough if Justin had arrived minutes later he would have interrupted more than a backrub.

He´s right though. Not that I´m telling him that.’ Tucking the towel under his arm, Lance holds out his hand. Chris grabs it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, looking at Lance all the while. This close every freckle is visible, each fleck obvious in Lance´s eyes, Chris can´t resist leaning in, laughing as he kisses the tip of Lance´s nose.

You´re a freak,’ Lance says, and his eyes are crossed, his mouth curled into a smile.

You know it.’ A last lick against nose, and Chris moves away, knowing the others won´t wait.

Inside the room it´s dim, and Chris blinks as he makes for his bed. There´s a tangle of clothes piled on the cover, and he pulls free his yellow t-shirt, tugging it over his head. Sneakers on bare feet and he´s ready to go, waiting at the door as Lance finishes dressing and pulls a comb through his hair.

That stuff mom sent isn´t helping.’ Lance is grimacing, and even from across the room Chris can hear the rough grate of the comb through Lance´s hair.

It´s not that bad.’

Lance doesn´t reply to the obvious lie, just drops the comb on his bed and opens the door, holding it open until Chris is outside.

They hear JC well before they see him, unrestrained laughter that makes them both smile. There´s a thud of feet followed by a yell, and they turn the corner to see Justin lying on the floor. Joey´s leaning over him, and Chris has to run and leap, bringing Joey crashing down to the floor. Justin gasps when they land on him, his face red as he kicks out and thumps his fists against Chris´ back.

Ass,’ Justin says, rubbing at his ribs when Chris and Joey roll to the side and stand. You could have broken my ribs.’ He frowns while sprawling on the floor, uncaring of the people who have stopped to stare. It was a good jump though. You got Joey good.’

A smile replaces the frown as Justin stands in one graceful movement, Chris would be jealous but he knows Justin, has seen him being a klutz many times.

What about my back? He could have broken that.’ Joey doesn´t even try to look upset as he grabs Chris, holding him so his feet just scrape the ground. Here, he belongs to you.’

I´m not a sack of potatoes you know.’ Patting at his t-shirt, Chris loves how Joey smiles as Lance looks Chris up and down, then pushes him away.

You keep him.’

Tried that once, never again.’ Chris finds himself engulfed in a hug, Joey´s lips against his cheek.

We need to go, boys.’ Lynn looks at her watch and that´s enough to settle them down, gathering bags with a last flurry of slapping hands. Wesley´s at their side as they go outdoors. It´s hot at street level, the heat haze wavering above the sidewalk as they walk. Chris can feel sweat bead at his neck and rubs where his braids meet skin.

Thankfully they´re not going far, just five minutes to the nearest McDonalds and food they can recognise despite the strange names. Chris walks next to Justin, but he´s always aware of Lance. Listening as he talks to Joey, feeling the brush of fingers over his arm as Lance hurries past to catch JC.

They reach the restaurant, exchanging sun baked heat for the heat of cooking and oil. There´s a row of booths inside, and they slide into one, crowding on the red plastic benches, jammed together as they crane to look at the menu boards, matching pictures to unfamiliar words.

Perched on the edge of the bench, Chris listens to a barrage of orders, repeating the list in his head. There´s a woman behind the counter, she´s arranging straws in a holder, and smiles when Chris approaches. She smiles more when he slowly repeats the order, offering suggestions when he trips over a word.

Finally Chris pays, handing over crumpled bills and shining coins. Pocketing the change, he wipes his forehead with his forearm, looking for the bathroom, and cool water he can splash on his face.

He sees a door complete with stick figures of a woman and man. It leads to a corridor, doors opening on both sides. The stick man´s repeated on one, and Chris pushes his way inside.

It´s bright, white tiles gleaming against the row or urinals and sinks. Chris stands in front of the first sink, turns on the cold faucet and lets the water run over his hand.

That makes me hot.’

Chris looks in the mirror, watches as Lance walks close. Me wetting my hand is hot? And you call me a freak.’

Lance shakes his head, moves in close so he´s standing behind Chris and staring at their reflection. You know it doesn´t. Speak German again.’

You´d think you had a language kink or something.’ Chris leans into Lance´s hold, resting his head against his cheek. Meine Eier jucken, Affenschwanz.’

Say it again.’ Lance´s mouth is against Chris´ cheek, trailing heat as he kisses down, a jingle of sound as he licks across Chris´ earrings, ending in the dip of collar bone at the base of his neck.

Meine.’ Chris shudders when Lance licks again. Flickering touches interspaced with long wet swipes of tongue. He tips back his head, and the angle´s wrong for anything but shallow kissing, the feel of Lance´s hand against his stomach, pulling them close.

Chris links his hands over Lance´s, eyes wide as he sees snatches of their reflection. Damp skin and flushed cheeks. Chris places his hands over Lance´s, holds on and vows to never let go.

 **It´s fall when Chris falls in love with Justin**.

The cottage is hidden, a small whitewashed building set in a thicket of trees. Leaves coat the tiled roof, brown and red against grey. Each gust of wind brings more, swirling through the air. There´s a pile near the front door and Chris kicks at them when he walks by, leaves exploding outwards in a rustle of noise.

His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, painfully clenched with the sound of each slammed doors. There´s a crash, and Chris is seconds from going inside, hand held against the wooden door. He lets it drop, whirling around and heading for one of the paths into the woods, security following discretely behind.

The path is overgrown, brambles snagging at his pants and t-shirt. Chris tugs impatiently and a thorn rakes over his arm, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake. Arm held to his mouth, he licks at the beading blood, ignoring the sting of more thorns against his legs.

Anger keeps Chris moving, feet crunching through layers of leaves, warm despite the coolness of the day. He walks for hours, frustrated with a situation that keeps getting worse, until the frustration fades and he can see the argument for what is was, angry words over nothing at all. When he finally circles back the sun is sinking and he arrives to a cottage with sun-pinked walls and trees that dance against dark against a blood red sky. All Chris sees is Justin.

He´s lying on the hood of the rented car, back against the glass, knees up and feet against polished red paint. He´s perfectly still and his face is cast in shadow and sunlight as he stares up at the sky.

I wasn´t sure if you´d come back.’ Unmoving, still, Justin´s expression is blank and that scares Chris more than any screaming fight. This trip was make or break time, and they both know it´s time to say it´s over. If only one of them could find the words. Now there´s an air of inevitability about Justin, and Chris feels sick to the stomach as he approaches the car.

I wouldn´t leave without saying anything.’ Chris hesitates, but eventually he climbs up next to Justin, sliding down, close but not touching as they watch stars appear in the darkening sky. Words are trapped between them and it´s time to finish this before years of friendship are tainted by pain.

It should have worked.’ There´s no question, only statement, because it _should_ have worked. The foundations were there. Chris loves Justin, can´t imagine a life without him, but it wasn´t right from the start. Despite the love, the friendship, it´s a relationship built on idealistic dreams.

I´ll miss you.’

I´ll always be around.’ Chris lifts up his arm, fingers folded except for one. Justin looks from Chris´ face to his hand, then extends his own arm, linking his pinky finger with Chris´ own. It´s a promise, old and binding, because Chris will try his hardest to always be around, even as Justin inevitably moves away.

Promise made, Justin moves, one elbow under him for balance. He looks down for long minutes, searching for answers. Eventually he nods slightly, and leans in close. Justin´s lips are cold, dry from the wind, and Chris takes in every detail, knowing this kiss means goodbye.

~*~*~*~

 **It´s winter when Chris falls in love with JC**

Chris can´t help remembering, past lovers, his career, all gone. Friends call, but it's easier not to answer. Easier to stay in, block out the memories with bottles of Jack and strangers who see his house as their own. He fills his life with kisses, alcohol and food, but they´re empty comforts and he ends with nothing at all.

The rooms are full of winter sun, causing elongated spiky shadows that stretch across the floor. Chris is curled on his couch, hidden in the shade of puffy cushions, unshaven and dressed in clothes from the night before. His feet are bare, and he tucks them between the cushions, trying to warm his toes. Controls are scattered beside him, the tv remote tangled in the wire of his Playstation, his cell half hidden by a jumbled pile of CDs.

It feels like the world is sleeping, support braches withering away. Chris shivers, tucking his arms around his knees. He´s too tired to move: he lost the ability for self pity and anger weeks ago. There´s nothing left now, so he goes through the motions of living, nights blending into day.

Hours later, and Chris´ cell rings in his ear. Confused, he hauls himself upright and rubs at the imprint of the remote on his cheek. He expects the caller to give up, but they don´t, just keep ringing, over and over again.

Yeah.’ Chris flips open his cell, resting his head against a cushion as he hears JC.

Chris. I have this thing and I figured you might want to come. There´s a ticket waiting for you at the airport.’

JC sounds disgustingly chirpy, and Chris can´t deal with that. Someone alive and vibrant, contrasting how pathetic his own life has become.

I´m busy, if you´d told me earlier.’

This is important, Chris.’ JC´s voice has lowered, lost its core of happiness. I wouldn´t ask, but I need you.’

Chris sighs. I´ll see you tomorrow.’ JC needs him, and that´s one thing he can never ignore.

Ending the call, Chris gropes on the floor for a glass and the bottle of Jack. He pours himself a generous measure, knocking it back in one.

~*~*~*~

Eyes itching and tired, Chris clings to the remains of his high. It´s snowing when he leaves the airport, fat flakes slowly falling from a leaded grey sky. It takes a while to spot JC who´s waiting in front of a Towncar, bundled in a long black coat, a knitted hat pulled down over his hair. He beams when he sees Chris, running over for an enthusiastic hug.

Man, I haven´t seen you in forever.’ Chris leans into the embrace, eyes closed and face squashed into JC´s shoulder.

So, what´s this thing?’ Chris asks, pulling away from memories that strike, sudden and raw.

JC ignores the question, busying himself with taking Chris´ bag, stowing it in the car.

JC?’ Suspicious, Chris notes the flush on JC´s cheeks. It could be the cold, but Chris knows better, fixing JC with a glare. There´s no thing is there?’

I was talking to Joey. He said you weren´t doing that well.’

Great.’ JC doesn´t even look embarrassed, obviously thinking it´s okay to talk about Chris behind his back, which sucks, because it´s not like anyone talks to his face. So we´re going to have a sleep-over, brush out our hair and watch late night porn? We can take notes and write your next song.’

I was think more take out and talk, but whatever.’ JC shrugs and gets into the car. There´s a flight back at eight, or you could stop being a sullen bastard and come visit a while.’

~*~*~*~

JC´s rented house is comfortable, full of deep couches and bookshelves full of books that have obviously been loved and read. Chris is sitting close to the real fire, book open on his lap as he looks into the flames into the flames that are throwing out fierce heat.

He´d hoped things might be different here, but nothing has changed, the blanket of apathy is still firmly in place. It´s suffocating, and Chris can´t breathe. Needing distraction, he tries to read, but the words mean nothing. He stares down at the page, and imagines JC coming back and finding him, the look of sympathy matched with a smile. Chris needs to get out before he sees that again. He stands, pulling on his sneakers and coat.

It´s freezing outside, and snow crunches under Chris´ feet as he walks. He passes walled estates, past the shopping arcade and onto the local park. It´s small, a playing field with a swing set and roundabout hidden in the snow. Chris sweeps the snow from a swing, sits down and clenches his fingers around ice cold chains.

Are you okay?’

Chris looks up and sees JC´s following in his footprints, overlaying them with his own.

I´m fine.’

I don´t believe you.’ JC´s at the roundabout, and he looks so sad that Chris wishes he´d never agreed to stay.

What do you want me to say? That I´m fine? Because I´m saying it. It´s just.’ Chris hesitates, he shouldn´t be saying this, but JC keeps asking and maybe he needs to know. It´s just. I´ve managed on my own this last year, why stage an intervention now?’

Because we care, because we love you, I love you.’ JC´s waiting, as if he expects Chris to get the importance of what he´s said, but, abandonment issues aside, it´s nothing he doesn´t know.

But why now? You´ve kept away all this time.’

It´s not like that.’ JC sounds frustrated, crunching over the snow so he can sit on the empty swing. I didn´t stay away. And then there was Justin, and your vow not to date within the group again, which I have to say is unfair. You date Joey, Lance and Justin then bring in the rule. What about me? It´s not even like your thing with Justin was that bad, you´re still friends. And Lance says you´re one of the best boyfriends he´s ever had and you and Joey lost your virginity together.. You don´t know how long I´ve wanted to say something.’

Well say it again, because I´ve no idea what you´ve just said.’ Which is a lie, because Chris suspects, but still. It´s best to be sure.

I said I want you.’

I´m not at my best right now,’ Chris warns, and he pushes his feet against the floor, swinging in tiny movements.

I can see that.’ Quiet words and JC´s sliding off his swing and stepping to the side. He stands between Chris´ legs, puts his hands on Chris´ shoulders and looks down. It doesn´t matter.’

Justin. I don´t.’

JC places a gloved finger over Chris´ lips. Justin was something you both needed to get out of your system. Just. Give me a chance.’

Snow flakes glint at the edges of JC´s lashes and droplets gleam in his hair. His nose is bright red and his purple striped scarf wraps twice around his neck and still trails on the floor. Chris sees him for the first time in forever, and allows himself the pain of missing them all once more.

Justin´s got more money than me,’ Chris says, falling into old lessons to distract and move on.

Justin´s got more money than anyone.’ JC´s hands tighten. Thing is, I don´t want money. I want you.’

Chris remains silent, knowing JC won´t want to hear the negativity that fills his mind, but it seems JC´s retained the ability to communicate without words. I´ve waited forever for this, and this is probably the wrong time, but I couldn´t sit and watch you fade away. You´re like a plant, they need sun to survive, oxygen and fresh air. Which yeah, I know, same thing. But the concept´s the same. Aren´t you going to say something? Laugh? Because man, this is freaky.’

I don´t know what to say,’ Chris admits. All he knows is it feel right having JC so close, like he´s regained something he thought lost for good.

So say nothing.’ JC shrugs and pushes back his hair. Walk home with me and I´ll make hot chocolate, we´ll take it from there.’

In the end it´s an easy choice, needing no thought at all. Have you got mini marshmallows and cream?’

Of course.’ JC takes a step back, and Chris is cold, shivering as the snow hits the warmth of his belly and chest.

JC.’ Chris stands, and his ass is damp with melted snow. Grabbing JC´s scarf, Chris wraps it in his hands and cranes up, needing to feel. JC´s mouth is icy cold, his tongue warm as responds to the kiss by licking over Chris´ teeth, across his lips. Hip against Chris´ thigh, hands and arms moving until they´re wrapped in hug, bodies tight and holding on as the snow thickens around them.

  


 **Bonus scene. A club in Germany somewhere**.

It´s late and Chris is draped over the bar, listening intently as Aiden polishes glasses and talks. His accent is thick, and Chris struggles to translate, but eventually, after many hand movements and slow repetitions, Chris understands.

Weeks and much laughter later, Chris stares at the English-German dictionary and scowls, vowing vengeance on a barman hours and five cities away.

From now on, the only lines Chris will use are his own.

 _Meine Eier jucken, Affenschwanz  My balls itch, monkey-dick._


End file.
